


Pups of War

by tatecorrigan



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatecorrigan/pseuds/tatecorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two hundred days after Slit gives back his Pup, Nux gets a Pup of his own. (Can be read as a sequel to "A Boy and His Pup.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pups of War

Just shy of two hundred days after Slit had last held his Pup under the open sky at the top of the Citadel, a whirl of lanky white limbs and sagging black pants skittered around a corner into the armory. The Lancers looked up, startled, muscles braced— _hoping_ —for news of war, another shot at Valhalla, even just a fight in the pits gone out of control. The racing War Boy stopped, leaning in the doorway. It was Nux, panting hard, face lit up with enthusiasm.

“Slit! Slit, it’s happening! Ace just told me, I’ve got to go—got to get it, I’ve got to—“ A wheeze from his lungs interrupted Nux’s babbling. He was forced to bend over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath.

“Nux!” He had covered the distance to the doorway as soon as he’d recognized his Driver’s face. “What’s happening? What’s gone on?”

Nux looked up at him, chest still heaving. His scarred lips stretched into a smile, as big as he could make it while still attempting to regain his breath. “It’s a _Pup_ , Slit. Ace just said. I’m getting a Pup.” He wheezed again, looking around the armory. “Morsov, too. We’re getting _Pups_!” He called to Morsov, who burst into an open-mouthed grin, dropping an armful of half-finished thundersticks to the floor to run over.

Slit felt his heart skip, his engine shudder, heard a loud silence roaring in his ears. Then he stuttered back to life, the silence subsiding as the whooping of Nux and the other Lancer crashed into his head. He spread his lips in a smile, forced the scars into it for good measure. Nux had wanted this, he knew; when Slit had carried a Pup Nux had quickly taken to the bub, fussing over him and playing with him whenever he was near. Slit hadn’t minded. It had been useful to have someone to watch the Pup occasionally, to help him wrangle the Pup for feeding and shaving and baths. Someone to rise, sometimes, in the middle of the night when Slit was too exhausted to care if the Pup screamed forever. Someone to laugh and exclaim when the Pup began to crawl and grab at the many tools and other objects dangling from Slit’s belt, even as Slit’s chest swelled in quiet pride.  

And now Nux was getting a Pup of his own. A slow sense of trepidation was rising in Slit’s belly. It had been a long time since he’d given up his Pup. _Taken away_. Sure, he’d been a little soft about it—thankfully no one but Nux had seen that—but he’d gotten over it, hadn’t he? Hardened up, gotten back to work, spent more time down on the lancers’ range, hitting target after target perfectly, until the muscles in his arms seized up and were sore for days. And when Morsov had put a hand on his shoulder, running his mouth about _if Slit ever wanted to talk_ —hadn’t he wound up and hit him right in the jaw, right where he deserved it, for even thinking Slit might be so soft and mediocre as to need to _talk_? Morsov had carried that bruise for days, the puffiness still visible under his paint, favoring that side of his face when he ate.

So Nux was getting a Pup. _Good for Nux._ His piece of shit Driver had always been overeager for the task, Slit thought. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too much of a distraction. It had been far too long since their last run, for raid or for war, and they were up for patrol duty again soon. Slit wasn’t going to miss his next chance to get out of the Citadel and into the wastes, to feel the hot air whipping over his bare skin under the harsh, bright sun. No, Nux would just have to learn how to cope with the Pup, and soon.

Slit forced himself between Nux and Morsov as they celebrated. He clapped Nux’s shoulder, cuffing him. “Yeah, that’s great, Nux. Real shine!” he nodded to Morsov, his mouth stretched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Jus’ so long as ya keep up with your duties, keep the Coupe runnin’. I don’ wanna have to cover for ya, s’hard enough doin’ my job!” He chuckled.

Nux slowed, recovering from his jubilance momentarily. “Well…you’ll help, yah?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “Like I helped you?”

Slit demurred. “Ahh, you didn’t help that much, wasn’t nothin’.” He glanced at Morsov, giving the other Lancer a playful nudge and a smile. Morsov reached up to rub the spot where Slit’s elbow had dug into his skin.

Nux furrowed his brow, perplexed. “What’re you sayin’, Slit?”

Slit shifted, suddenly defensive. “Not sayin’ nothin’, just don’t want you thinkin’ I’m gonna take carry him for you. Don’t want you thinkin’ you can pass him off to me whenever you want. He’ll be _your_ Pup.” From the corner of his good eye Slit could see Morsov shifting uneasily.

“We should probably go—“ the other Lancer interjected, but Nux interrupted him.

“I _know_ he’ll be mine, Slit! That’s the point, right? Not like you’ve got room to talk, as much as you needed my help with yours.” Nux’s eyes blazed defiantly, his shoulders squaring as though readying for a fight. But then he relaxed, pulled back, and rounded on Morsov. “C’mon, we’ve got to go.” He grabbed Morsov’s shoulder, throwing back at Slit a steely glare as they turned to leave.

As he watched the pair go, hands crossed over his chest, Slit’s face fell into a scowl. He dropped his arms and turned back to his pile of thundersticks, glaring hard at the Lancers and Gunners around him. One or two sets of eyes lingered on him, but turned away when he snapped his teeth and glowered. 

 

 

Nux cradled the Pup gently, trying to remember everything Slit had taught him, all those hundreds of days ago, about how to hold Pups. The Pup was so small, wrinkled and red, that when Organic had put him in Nux’s arms, Nux wasn’t sure he’d been given the right one. Surely this tiny, pink thing was too new, too shiny, to be entrusted to Nux’s grease-stained, calloused hands. And yet here they were, Nux’s arms curled around this slight form, cradling him whole as he gently carried the Pup, wrapped in a thin, dingy blanket, to the V8 altar.

He lifted the Pup toward the altar, allowing the filtered sunlight to land on the Pup’s face. The Pup began to emit little cries, tiny limbs jerking. Nux brought him down again and held him close, shushing him quietly. “Hey, hey, s’alright! You’re alright,” he cooed. He patted the Pup’s back and looked up at the altar, running his mind over the well-known inventory of wheels, of names and histories that had made the Citadel what it was. “S’gonna be you up there, some day,” he explained to the Pup. “And I’ll be there with you, with any luck, yeah?”

The Pup mewled, shifting in his arms. Nux tried to adjust his hands to keep the Pup balanced, then found himself leaning over the Pup, putting his back into it as he struggled to keep the tiny bundle from falling. The Pup continued to fuss as Nux fought with the blanket.

“Psst! Hey!” A small voice hissed to Nux’s right. He looked over, then down when he heard another “psst!” A Pup looked up at him, no higher than his waist, wide eyes looking up from under a brow stitched in concern. “You’re holdin’ ‘im wrong!”

Nux blinked. “What?”

“The way you’re holdin’ ‘im, it’s all wrong!” The Pup stepped forward to show Nux a scrap of dirty cloth wrapped around his skinny chest. “Y’gotta hold ‘im like this!” Nux leaned in and saw that the Pup was carrying something in the cloth. It was a bundle of old shop rags, tied together and coated in a fine layer of white clay and a smudged, drawn-on greasepaint face. The Pup wrapped one arm underneath his doll, balancing it on his forearm, the head nestled in the crook of his elbow, while the other arm circled around for stability. “Gotta keep it balanced. Arms gotta be aligned, just like a car.” The Pup looked up at Nux, encouraging. “See?”

Nux nodded and adjusted his arms to mirror the Pup’s position. “Like that?”

“Yeah! You got it!” The Pup beamed up at him, gently rocking his doll back and forth. Nux returned his grin and emulated the slow rocking motion. The babe in his arms began to relax, quieting almost immediately.

“Thanks,” Nux said quietly, nodding. The Pup gave a swift nod, then grew suddenly shy and dashed away. Nux was left alone with his Pup once more. “Looks like we’ve both got stuff to learn, hmm? Don’t worry, Pup, you’ll have me for a while. And then all your brothers, too, there’s lots of us. Hundreds!” Nux glanced up at the altar, shadows reflected in the brightly shining chrome.

Worry flickered briefly over Nux’s face, creasing his brow and tightening his scarred lips. “I hope Slit comes around, too. Oh, you’ll like him, don’t you worry! He’s real shine, once you get to know him! He just…takes time, is all.” Nux sighed, shifting around the Pup. “He had a Pup once. Took real good care of him. He was perfect for it, did everything right.” Nux wrinkled his nose as a thought meandered through his head. “Think maybe he had a tough time giving it back. Got more attached than he thought he would.” He chuckled softly. “Had a car like that once. She was just a scrapper, not a proper pursuit vehicle, but she was somethin’. Got rammed by a Buzzard rig,” his face fell. “Wasn’t anything of her left worth scavving, just bits. Just about shredded me up inside to see it.” He swallowed, feeling momentarily that he’d said too much, too soon, for the Pup. “Anyway, you’ll like Slit. He’s strong, and quick. A real proper Lancer, in every way.”

Nux smiled down at the Pup again, his voice lifting. “Now, I’m to do the telling about all the War Boys who came before, so you know what you’re about from the start. So settle in, because there’s lots you should know about. See that wheel over there? That’s my wheel! Made it myself, but some of the parts came from that scrapper, what got rammed by the Buzzards? But when she went down, this big Lancer, Kett, he swung down, right onto the roof of the Buzzard rig. Called for Witness and shoved a thunderstick straight into the driver’s wheel! The driver and his rider, and Kett with them, all went up in big fire, it was lovely. Slit said it was the most chrome thing he’d ever seen…”

Nux stood there for a long time, dim light bathing both him and the Pup in a pale blue halo as he murmured stories of historic War Boys. Nux’s earnest voice echoed gently from the rough stone walls, swaddling the Pup in the warm comfort of the telling and the promise of something great. 


End file.
